


Forget Me Not

by neadevar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Gangs, Just in general, M/M, Modern Thedas, Recreational Drug Use, Sex, Trans Character, Trans Lavellan (Dragon Age), Trans character written by trans author, and gang related activity, qunari elves dwarves and magic still exist, thought mostly only mentioned and reflected upon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:58:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neadevar/pseuds/neadevar
Summary: “I think I’ve died before, Dorian.”“Darling, you’re talking nonsense. Come back to bed.”“Nonsense is when I try to cast a flame to light my cigarette and accidentally freeze it instead. Nonsense is the things you mumble in your sleep. This isn’t nonsense. We’ve died. We fought something, we won, but we died. We were dead. Maybe more than once.”





	1. Taste of Love (Or Was It Cigarettes)

**Author's Note:**

> This does include a transman Lavellan, though its not a huge part of the story. Just a trans main character. But a heads up so when I do get to writing sex scenes no one is surprised by his genitals. This is going to be a mature story writing wise and with what I'm going to add but I think I've gotten all of the tags I need listed.

Faelan was out of vodka. That just wasn’t something he could stand for even on a good day, rare as they were lately. He dangled the empty bottle from fingertips he could hardly feel and let it slip from his grasp. It hit the wooden floor of his apartment’s balcony with a hollow thud and rolled into the metal bars of the railing with a clink. Cold, numb hands clumsily dug in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes, barely managing to wiggle one out without dropping the entire box or crushing the stick between his fingers. He let a small flame gather on the tip of his index finger, small enough to just warm the sensitive skin, as he stuck one in his mouth. 

Dorian wouldn’t be happy about the smell when he finally made it back to bed. Or the empty vodka bottle. He wouldn’t voice it tonight, or even tomorrow, but Faelan knew it was all building up. It was only a matter of time before Dorian had enough and let him know everything that was swirling and getting tangled up in his head. It was generally how they resolved issues. 

Faelan was just as bad. He didn’t talk about problems unless he was drunk or far away from the problem itself. Right then, he was very close to the problem. Remnants of his dream still clouding up his head and leaving a dull ache in his temples.

_ Metal was clashing together, the sharp sounds and dull thuds of the battle surrounding him was almost disorientating. Faelan had a grin on his lips, sharp incisors bared and light eyes flashing against the shine of steel armor around him. Magic gathered in his veins, on the end of his tongue and in his fingertips, and he twirled his staff in a manner that Bull told him reminded him of the way water broke against rocks and swept away sand in its currents. Fluid. Violent. Beautiful. Dangerous. _

“Bull,” Faelan said softly. 

The name was foreign on his tongue, but he finally had a name. Not so much a face. It was hard to conjure it up even as he dreamt. He knew he was big, towering over him and Dorian both, and he knew he was kind. Now, though, he had a name.

_ A shadow in the sky, a deafening roar, people were going to die if he didn’t make it in time. It was all up to him. His staff knocked the blade of a sword away, and he ducked to avoid the following attack. Fire swirled in his empty palm, blistering his skin. A large axe came down on the soldier in front of him, a hearty laugh following, and Faelan’s heart thudded hard in his chest at the sound of it. Familiar. Warm. Home. _

A hand came down softly on Faelan’s shoulder knocking him out of his thoughts violently. He jumped at the touch, cigarette nearly leaving his mouth, and flames bursting in his fists and scorching his skin. He hardly reacted to the pain, far too used to accidentally burning himself.

“It’s just me,  _ amatus. _ ”

Home. A different one, but still just as warm.

Faelan sucked in a breath and held it for a moment before letting it go. Steeling himself. These dreams were getting all to common. Were starting to feel all too familiar and real. The girl at the corner store always grabbed a bottle of vodka for him when he came around.

He came around often.

“Another one?” Dorian asked softly. 

The hand moved from Faelan’s shoulder to his jaw, tilting his head back slightly so the man could get a good look at him.  Faelan let his pointed ears fall. He nodded, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes. Despite the chill of the night air and the clouds that threatened to let water fall he couldn’t bring himself to want to move. Dorian was here and he was touching him and Faelan could finally let the stress of his dreams fall off his shoulders a little bit and onto Dorian’s.

“Was I in this one?”

“No,” Faelan spoke. His words slurred, feeling like a foreign language on his heavy tongue. He took a drag of his cigarette. Arms too heavy to pull it from his mouth and hands far too burnt to try and touch it, he breathed out through his nose lest he lose his precarious hold on the stick. “The other one was.”

_ Bull _ . Faelan wasn’t sure he could tell Dorian his name though. It felt warm in his mouth but would it feel that way in Dorian’s too?

Dorian hummed, reaching around with his other hand to pluck the cigarette from his best friend's lips and putting it out on the arm of the chair. “Let’s go, love. I need to heal your hands.”

“I think I’ve died before, Dorian.”

It was a drunken admittance that Dorian had heard many times before, had heard for the past few months though it originally took some coaxing to get out. It hardly phased him now. 

“Darling, you’re talking nonsense.” His voice was soft, and Faelan couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed at the dismissal. Too caught up in the warmth of his hands and the feeling of lips pressing against the top of his head. “Come back to bed.”

Faelan hummed, trying again. “Nonsense is when I try to cast a flame to light my cigarette and accidentally freeze it instead. Nonsense is the amount of straps and belts you insist on your clothing. This isn’t nonsense.  _ We’ve died. _ We fought something, we won, but we died. We were dead. Maybe more than once.”

“You can tell me about it in the morning,  _ amatus. _ ”

Faelan let Dorian drag him back into their bedroom with that. This wasn’t a fight he could win. It was too ridiculous to even fight for, no matter how sure he was of it. And he was so,  _ so  _ sure. He could feel it in every breath he took after he woke up. Could sense it in his fingertips and his lips when they touched someone Faelan hadn’t even met yet. It was in the ache in the elf’s body as he went to bed with Dorian and only Dorian. 

Faelan had died, Dorian had died, and they had both loved someone else so strongly and deeply that it was hard to believe they weren’t with them right now. That kind of love transcends death, doesn’t it?

They were missing, and Faelan didn’t know how to fix the hole it left in his chest.

  
  
  


They didn’t talk about it in the morning, Dorian pretending that last night never happened and Faelan trying to piece together scraps of drunken memory to try and paint a picture of his dream in his head. Da’len, an soft and dangerous ball of black fluff that masqueraded as a cat, weaved in between his legs and chirped for food. 

Dorian had already fed her. She was just terribly fat. On a diet too, though that caused just as much distress for Dorian and Faelan as it did their cat. They often woke up in the middle of the night to claws digging into the skin of their faces as she meowed and growled for food. Dorian wanted to give up and let her be fat, lest the puncture wounds on their faces started to scar when he healed the both of them. Faelan was adamant. He was determined that Da’len live a full and healthy life free of diabetes. 

“I envy your ability to drink and wake up chipper in the morning,” Dorian said warmly, wrapping his arms around the Faelan as he made their morning coffee.

“It’s an elf thing,” Faelan smiled. He turned around and pressed a warm mug into Dorian’s chest. His hair was a mess and his mustache hung limp and it was Faelan’s absolute favourite look on Dorian. “What time do you leave for work today?”

“Not for at least an hour,” Dorian told him, pausing to gulp down half his cup of coffee before continuing. “Don’t get too terribly bored without me today, my love.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Faelan’s smile turned sly. “So, you have time for a quick morning blowie?”

Dorian arched a delicately plucked eyebrow, reaching between them to palm the space between Faelan’s legs. “Fae, I have enough time for  _ anything  _ you want.”

As soon as Dorian had left, the sound of his car disappearing down the road, Faelan grabbed his jacket and cigarettes and headed out the door. He was quick to light one, dispelling the flame on his fingers with a clench of his hand and taking a large drag to try and chase the taste of cock and cum from his mouth. No reason to breath that onto the girl at the corner store. She was far too good to him for that.

He dropped his cigarette along the way, went to grab another one when he realized his pack was empty. That would make it his third in the past week. He blamed his dreams entirely. Normally he had enough state of mind to make a pack last a month. He couldn’t quit, no matter how much Dorian used to beg him to, but the least he could do was try to keep his mouth from tasting like ashes all the time. 

He ducked into the corner store, resigning himself to needing to buy another pack. 

“Hey, sweet thing. Rough night?”

Faelan grinned up at Isabella, watching as she pulled his brand of vodka from the shelf. “You could say that. Pack of my menthols too please.”

“Anything else, cutie?” Isabella asked, brushing her long dark hair off of her bare shoulder as she rang up his items.

“Unless you’ve got a cure for nightmares, no,” Faelen told her. He pulled out his card. Normally he’d be okay to stay and chat. She was fun company, even funner when she was over at their place high as hell, but he didn’t have it in him right then. If he was up for anything it would be a nap.

“Weed,” she told him seriously. “I’ve got some in the back, if you’re willing to pay.”

Faelan raised an eyebrow at that, “Do I get a special friend deal on it?”

She laughed at that, beautiful and lighthearted. “Hun, if all my friends got that deal I wouldn’t make anything off of it. By the way, please let Sera know that she owes me some money. Or a tumble in her bed. Her choice.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know.” Faelan dug around in his wallet. “I have a twenty?”

The bill had barely touched his fingers before Isabella had tugged it from him. “Give me a moment, dear.”

Faelen let himself wonder the store for a moment, pausing at the far end and taking in the the horrible text shirts. He was holding a ‘Nevarra or Bust’ shirt against himself to gauge the size when the bell above the door rang. 

“Fae! Come grab your shit,” Isabella called as she re-entered.

The elf was quick to shove the shirt back, walking briskly up to Isabella. “Thanks.”

“Don’t forget to text Sera,” she told him seriously, but she wasn’t looking at him. 

He turned around to see what she was staring at, but all he saw was a hulking figure crouch slightly behind the candy isle. A pair of horns stuck up over the top of the fixture. Qunari. Faelan had to turn back around so he wasn’t caught staring. Not that they didn’t have any Qunari in Nevarra. The place had become a place of travel, with their coastline and proximity to the surrounding countries people were always passing through to get where they needed. Dorian himself was originally from Tevinter before Faelan had met him as a teenager.

Faelan's city hardly saw any new traffic, though, being as small and dingy as it was. They had a few Qunari residents, but little enough that you knew their faces. And those horns didn’t belong to anybody he knew.

Nor Isabella either, as she continued staring unabashed. 

Faelan shook his head and pulled a cigarette out of his new pack. “See you later, Bella.”

She waved him off as he went through the doors.


	2. Officially Smitten and Twice Fucked

Dorian Pavus was absolutely smitten.

“Look,” Faelan argued. His eyes were half shut as he pet Da’len, spending far to long fingering the long fur of the cat’s tail then Dorian deemed necessary. The cat, seeming to agree, flicked its tail away and turned to butt its head against Faelan’s hand instead. “All I’m saying is that if we can do magic, and if people actually landed on the moon, then the existence of aliens really isn’t that crazy.”

“I’m going to tell Isabella to stop supplying you.” Dorian responded, grabbing the pipe that sat on the coffee table when Faelan reached out to grab it.

Faelan turned absolutely murderous eyes onto Dorian. “Don’t you  _ fucking  _ dare,  _ vhenan. _ I will choke you out while you sleep.”

“Kinky,” Dorian sat down on the couch and leaned into Faelan, squishing him into the edge of the couch. “I think I’ll pass though.”

Faelan sputtered underneath the weight, and Da’len hopped off of his lap with a disheartened meow and a small hiss. The elf watched her pad away forlornly before staring down at his now empty lap. 

“We were bonding,” He whimpered.

“She always comes back,” Dorian assured him. 

Sure enough Da’len hopped up on the couch to lay on the back of it. Her tail flicked in to Faelan’s face and the elf tried to kiss it before it flicked back away. Dorian watched him try that for a few moments longer before Da’len settled on leaving her tail wrapped loosely around his neck. Fae hummed and nuzzled his head back against her and she bit at his head gently in warning. 

Faelen just hummed, reaching a hand up to scratch at Dorian’s head. “I think that last hit was one too many.”

“You seem to be taking it fine.”

“I feel like I’m under twenty blankets.”

“Only twenty?”

“They’re hugging me.”

“Oh?”

“And procreating so the amount of blankets keeps increasing.”

“Naughty.”

“They’re shameless.”

Dorian had to hold back his laughter, shoulders shaking slightly as he pressed a kiss to Faelan lips. The elf hummed underneath him and pressed against him. Warm hands found their way under Dorian’s shirt and pressed against his stomach gently. Always warm, Dorian thought as he weaved a hand into the elf’s hair and scratched at his scalp lightly. Always so warm. Faelan pulled away and pressed his forehead against Dorian’s. He swayed lightly and it took Dorian a moment to realize that the man was falling asleep.

Dorian stood up and held out a hand, “It’s nearly twelve. You have work in the morning.”

“ _ Fuuuuck. _ ” Faelan let his head loll back. “Don’t make me go.”

“We have rent due next week,  _ amatus. _ ” Dorian pointed out.

“Our landlord can suck my dick.”

Dorian’s lips twitched, not quite a smile but definitely amused. “That’s my job, and quite frankly I’m not sure I want to share.”

Faelan grinned up at him, eyes squinting slightly. “You  _ like  _ me?”

“More than you like me, I’m positive.”

Faelan’s nose scrunched up at that, sharp ears flicking back. “Dorian. I fucking love you. I’m so much in love with you.”

“I know, darling. You still have your t-shot as well.”

Faelan ran a hand down his face and groaned. “I forgot. My fingers don’t know how to finger so you’ll have to do it.”

“I do love sticking things in you.”

  
  
  


Faelan and Dorian met in the foster care system, though definitely not under any good terms. They ended up sharing a bed at a foster home. The other room, which Faelan’s care worker was assured would be for him, was not. Neither Faelan nor Dorian were allowed to step foot in the bedroom lest they make a mess of it in case company came over and needed to stay. They were also not allowed to be in the kitchen. They might steal food. Or sit on the couches as they’d make them filthy. Nor could they leave their room when there was company over because they might offend the guests by simply  _ being.  _ A remark their foster parents deemed was snide, or a glance they thought was disrespectful, then meal privileges would be taken. From both of them, regardless of who was being ‘rotten’. They only really grew close as a means of survival in the beginning, shoving food from the meals they were permitted into their pockets and sneaking snacks from the kitchen while one stood look out. It ended up in a stash underneath their mattress for the times they were denied food. They became friends, eventually, despite Dorian being two years older then Faelan. They had each others backs. Romance really wasn’t on the mind at the time. They were just kids trying to survive and found solace in each other. 

It wasn’t until their foster ‘dad’ stuck his hand down Faelan’s pants, cooed in his ear how he was such a beautiful girl, that they decided to raise a fuss about it with their case workers.

They were quick to be moved, at least, but they did lose contact for a while. It hurt. Having been tossed from home to home, Faelan since birth and Dorian since he was fifteen, it was hard to forge long lasting connections because it was impossible to keep them. To have it taken so suddenly was a shock and Dorian found himself lonelier than he had ever been before. It wasn’t until the agency decided to hold an event nearly two years later for families hoping to adopt that they found each other again. They gathered all the kids at the park, and to be families did their picking and choosing from among them (in simple terms at least, paperwork and all).

Dorian was set to age out of the system, so there was really no hope for him at the event. Faelan was two years behind him, but knew he was far too old (and an elf) to be considered an actual option for most of the would be families to consider. They found each other eventually among the other teenagers sitting around each other. Some Faelan knew, and of those he didn’t get along with well. He found an elven girl to sit next to, and she had shot him a toothy grin, and that was how he met Sera.

Dorian had nearly fallen down in front of him, a look of relief on his face, and it had taken every ounce of Faelan’s willpower not to launch himself at the human and hug him. It had been almost two years and yet Dorian was still someone Fae could actually consider a friend. By the end of the event they had traded numbers and vowed to keep in touch.

Dorian aged out of the system later that year. Faelan followed suite two years after. A couple quick texts was all it took for Faelan to move in with him.

Seven years later they were… well together in the sense that they were best friends that fucked and kissed and went on dates often. Faelan wouldn’t call them boyfriends. Dorian was still dealing with deep seated trauma, a father that refused to love him and conversion therapy left plenty of scars. Not all of them emotional. Faelan had issues connecting emotionally, leaving romantic problem solving and mushy gushy feelings behind for vodka and snarky comments. It was easy though. What they had was simple and it worked. 

“I swear to god Dorian, if you don’t  _ move- _ .”

“You’re so impatient,” Dorian huffed. He tried to get a better grip on Faelan’s sweaty thighs, rocking into his cunt a little as he did punching a breath out of the small elf beneath him.

“I have to leave for work in twenty minutes! I need time to shower!”

Dorian leaned over and slotted his mouth against the elf’s, cutting off any other remarks. His hand tangled itself in long dark hair, his other scratching at the shaved part on the side of Fae’s head. 

When he pulled away it was to grin at the lover beneath him, “I only need thirty seconds.”

“Dorian if I don’t get off with your cock inside me right now you’re never getting this hole again.”

Dorian started thrusting into him then, slowly. Faelan hissed in a breath, throwing his head back as he rocked back against him, and his eyes squeezed shut. He was beautiful like this, was beautiful always, but seeing him moan in pleasure and knowing that Dorian was giving that to him was something else entirely. Entrancing almost.

Dorian grinned. “What about the other hole?”

The leg around his waist kicked his ass. Hard. He was bound to have a bruise later and he was absolutely going to complain about it. Even so Dorian took that as his cue to kick it up a notch, letting go of the elf’s hair in favor of gripping his waist and knocking hard against him. He was quick to pick up the pace. He really didn’t want Fae to be late to work as much as he enjoyed teasing him. He watched Faelan shove a hand into his mouth to bite back a shout. Heat pulled in his own abdomen, Faelan warm and wet, fluttering and squeezing around him as he thrust into him sharply. Dorian ran a hand up the elf’s chest, rubbing his thumb over a nipple and grinning delightedly at the noise that strained up Faelan’s throat.

“You look so debauched underneath me,  _ amatus.  _ Would you really give this up?”

Faelan groaned and pressed his free hand onto his engorged clit, rubbing it between two knuckles. Gods, if that wasn’t a sight to see. “Fuck, _ please _ ! Just a little more.”

Five minutes later and Faelan was scrambling towards the shower, cum dripping from between his legs. Dorian watched him go with a dopey smile on his face. He felt far more content then he should have for seven in the morning. He had fallen back asleep by the time Faelan emerged from the shower, brown skin still glistening with water. Dorian would miss him when he woke up. When Faelan’s side of the bed was cold. And in the early morning, with sleep still fogging his brain, he’d wonder why he was so scared of making their relationship official when it felt so wrong to be without him.


	3. Missing

Faelan hadn’t really expected to be working in a library for a living. He suspected it wasn’t going to be a job he could retire from with the rise of audio books. He’d be pleasantly surprised if the building stayed up and running for another ten or twenty years. He himself prefered a good paper bound book over someone talking in his ear any time. Fae could knock out a four hundred page book in a day if given the time. Having someone read to him took much longer and was much more frustrating.

Unless it was Dorian, he figured as he put another book away on the shelf. He could listen to that man talk all day without getting bored. Horny maybe. 

A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him he had another hour left in his shift. He rolled his shoulders and arched his back trying to work out the soreness that had settled in. Working there wasn’t entirely hard work but he had a habit of slouching. He put away the last book before wheeling the trolly back up to the front counter. Solas glanced at him from behind it for a moment. Then he nodded to another stack of books.

“These came in while you were busy,” Solas said. “Mind putting them away?”

Solas was agonizing almost all of the time, but Faelan liked him most days anyway. He owned the library but spent most of his days repairing old tomes and rebinding books that were no longer in production. Faelan was there to keep the library clean and organized and to make calls when books hadn’t been returned on time. Wynne only worked three days out of the week as a way to keep busy in her old age. She was probably Faelan’s favourite person, just below Dorian. She liked to teach him spells and Faelan liked to learn. She was probably the only reason Faelan was as proficient in magic as he was. Dorian knew quite a lot, but the teaching there tended to turn into roleplaying. Not a lot of learning was done there.

Wynne was also the only other person he had told about his dreams, and unlike Dorian she actually believed him.

Faelan stacked more books onto the trolley.

“Wynne had a heart attack,” Solas said casually. He stacked the papers in front of him methodically before placing them back into their folder. “We’re going to have to pick up the slack for the next month while she’s out.”

Fae, who upon hearing that news and had dropped a book to the ground, looked at him wide eyed. “She’s okay though, right?”

“She’s just fine, recovering quite well from what she told me.” Solas eyed the book on the ground and the other elf was quick to pick it back up. “She’s only staying out so long because she is as old as she is. She left her home phone number if you wish to call her.”

Solas pointed at a sticky note on the computer, and Faelan repressed a sigh of relief at the news.

“You can head home early after you put those books away, if you’d like,” Solas squinted at the window beside them. Rain pounded against it so hard Fae had been concerned the last few hours that it might actually break the glass. The rain had made business more slow than usual, the hours dragging by minute by minute.

An extra hour really wouldn’t do anything for Fae’s paycheck, so he was quick to put the books away and head outside. He cast a quick shield over himself to protect himself from the downpour, a spell that Wynne had been working with him on, before he left the canopy by the door. 

He was home twenty minutes later. Walking in he found Dorian asleep on the couch and chicken out and defrosting in the sink. He looked over the various vegetables and spices on the counter the other mage had clearly splurged on with a small smile. It meant Dorian got the position he’d been competing for the last year and a half. 

With a grin on his face Faelan rolled over the back of the couch and landed on top of Dorian. The man underneath him wheezed in surprise.

“Got the time travel research spot?” Fae asked.

Dorian groaned underneath him. “It’s a little more nuanced than that, but yes. I’ll be working directly under Professor Alexius now.”

“Don’t go falling in love, now,” Faelan told him. “He seems experienced. Don’t want you realizing you can do better than me.”

Dorian shifted underneath then until they were face to face, pressing a happy kiss to Fae’s lips and pulling back with a grin. “Even if he could manage to look half as good as you do taking my cock he still wouldn’t have a chance.”

Faelan arched an eyebrow. “I look that good, huh?’

“Darling, you look absolutely perfect.”

The elf hummed and laid his face into the crook of the other man’s neck. “So, what’s for dinner?”

Hands came up to rest on Faelan’s hips and he sighed contented. Dorian responded, “I was thinking gyros.”

“Please don’t set the kitchen on fire again.”

“That was one time and I put it out immediately.”

“I was chipping ice off the cabinets from your spell for weeks.”

“But at least our little apartment didn’t burn down.”

Faelen grinned and pressed a small kiss to Dorian’s neck. “You are quite right. Thank you for saving the day.”

“I try my very best,  _ amatus. _ ”

Fae rolled off of Dorian, standing up and offering a hand out. “Have a nice nap?”

Dorian took the hand and let the small elf haul him up with surprising strength. “I did in fact. Wasn’t really planning on one. You keeping me busy at night must be catching up with me.”

Faelan grin fell slightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, my love. These dreams will soon pass and we will have our blissful nights sleep returned to us once again.”

Faelan bit his tongue to keep from saying anything. He didn’t even know how he could explain the dreams in a way that Dorian would even believe him. He hadn’t really told the man much other then his drunken ramblings. As far as Dorian knew, Faelan thinks they had a past life and that someone is missing from this one.

It sounded crazy. Fae knew it did. He couldn’t hold Dorian’s disbelief against him.

“Gyros sounds fantastic,” Faelan was quick to change the subject. “Need any help?”

  
  
  


_ His hands were big. Gargantuan even. The wrapped around Faelan’s waist and the fingertips nearly touched. He was being gentle, too, as the rocked to the music in the Tavern. The elf could hardly reach his shoulders as they danced but he was far too drunk and content to complain. Dorian was sat close to them, and Faelan could see him grinning at them ear to ear under the low light.  _

_ Faelan tripped a little, but the hands were quick to settle him. _

_ “Gentle,  _ kadan.  _ Don’t think too hard about it.” _

_ “I think dancing just isn’t for me, Bull,” Faelan replied. He didn’t pull away though. _

_ “Nonsense, you should have seen yourself at the ball. No one could keep their eyes off of you. Especially off your ass.” _

_ “Indeed,” Dorian piped up. “It was quite the sight to see.” _

_ “In fact,” large hands gripped Fae’s backside. “I think it deserves a little more attention then that.” _

_ Faelan was swept off his feet and thrown over a shoulder before he could hardly shriek in surprise. Dorian was laughing as he followed them up the stairs of the tavern, staring at Faelan with a glint in his eye.  _

  
  


_ He’s missing _ , Faelan thought as he reached for his new bottle of vodka.

_ He’s missing. _


	4. A Fickle Thing

It’s not that Dorian didn’t want to believe Faelan. It’s just that he didn’t know how. In a world where beings could create fire on their fingertips and conjure up spirits the idea of reincarnation shouldn’t be all that strange. Research had been done on the subject but it had yielded no results. You couldn’t prove such a thing existed. There just wasn’t a way. Someone believing they were Andraste in a past life didn’t actually mean they were. How would you go about proving or disproving that, though? 

As he led Faelan back to bed for the third time that week he didn’t know how to help him. He didn’t know how to ease the tension from his shoulders or to wipe away the dark circles underneath his eyes. He could fix a bruise, stitch skin together with a wave of his hand, but he couldn’t heal the sleepless nights or ease the stress that clouded Faelan’s mind. There were some things magic just couldn’t do. He was helpless.

The elf hummed softly as Dorian tugged the covers back over them. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Dorian’s chest ached. “Go back to sleep,  _ amatus. _ ”

He opened his arms so Faelan could squirm right into them, how they normally fell asleep at night. Instead Faelan’s eyes got hard and he turned away. He scooted to the end of the bed. It wasn’t a reaction Dorian was expecting and it left him more then a little hurt and confused. 

“Faelan,” Dorian whispered. “Please.”

The elf was already asleep though, and Dorian couldn’t bring himself to get any closer after he had just been turned away. He stared at Faelan’s back in the darkness. Eventually Dorian fell asleep, but he did so terribly cold and lonely.

It was a restless night for both of them.

Dorian woke up early that morning, far before Fae would begin to stir. He watched the elf sleep a moment, brushing away some hair from his face. His chest ached. Even asleep Faelan’s forehead was creased with frustration. He ran a thumb over the wrinkles to try and smooth them out and Faelan breathed out a sigh. 

Dorian took a moment to look at the clock before sucking in a breath. He was quick to get dressed and put a pot of coffee on, setting the timer so it would be ready by the time Faelan had to get up for work. He didn’t have the time to wait for it to brew himself and he mourned the loss of his favourite brand and resigned himself to picking some up from Isabella’s store. It was likely too early for her to be there, but their early morning crew wasn’t awful. Merrill gave him free coffee occasionally. 

He looked back towards their bedroom for a moment before rolling his head and shoulders around and grabbing his keys. 

  
  
  


“Time magic is a fickle thing,” Alexius explained. “It must be dealt with patiently and carefully so that we don’t disrupt the fabric of time itself, simply manipulate it.”

Before Alexius and Dorian laid a chaotic assortment of magical items. Some Dorian had only read about, let alone seen in person in his study of magic. There was a reason Alexius had chosen him to take under his wing, though, and Dorian was determined to prove himself worthy or even laying eyes on the items in front of him. 

“How close have you gotten?” Dorian asked, curious. 

“Very close,” Alexius told him honestly. “I have everything I need to do so, but it continues to dangle just outside of my reach. Something is wrong with my equations, or the way the spell is set up. The ancient elves, back when they lived for centuries, used to spend a hundred years on just one spell. I used to find that peculiar. Now I think I might just need that much time.”

The professor rolled his shoulders. “Anyhow, if I don’t find the answer to it in my lifetime then maybe I can pave the way for it for future generations. Lay the ground work for it.”

Dorian waved his fingers over the items, feeling their energy radiating off of him and mingling with the mana in his blood. It was a unique feeling. There was so much magic and power woven into such small artifacts that it was almost unsettling. He pulled his hand back and flexed it, trying to rid his fingertips of the sensation. 

“You feel it?” Alexius asked. “The secret is here somewhere. We just have to unlock it.”

Dorian hummed. “So, where do we begin?”

  
  
  


It was well after midnight by the time Dorian got home. Lyrium, an element Dorian had only seen but never used until today, buzzed in the back of his mind. Alexius had a little leeway with the use of Lyrium, something that was banned from the general public, and he and Dorian had used quite a bit as they weaved spells and worked and reworked the research. He’d been assured most days would not be like that, but Alexius wanted to see what the man had in him. Now that the Lyrium was fading Dorian felt like he had been hit by a truck. He stumbled into their apartment to find Faelan curled up and sleeping on the couch.

He had waited up for him, like he always did when Dorian ran late. A smile tugged at his lips as he walked up to the elf. He was gentle picking him up, not wanting to disturb him, and a gentle rumbling sound fell from Fae’s lips.

Purring. It had been months since Dorian had heard it. Not since the dreams started. 

Despite the weakness in his arms Dorian carried Faelan to their bedroom, putting him to bed and draping the blankets over on top of him before crawling in beside him. Faelan was quick to turn into Dorian, humming softly in his sleep, his anger the previous night either forgotten or forgiven. Dorian wrapped him in his arms and pressed a kiss into his dark hair. 

Time magic might be fickle, Dorian thought as he drifted off, but it had nothing on Faelan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have rough drafts up to chapter seven written out, so updates may slow down after then. Thanks everyone for the feedback and support!


	5. Friends in High Places

The dreams were getting more frequent. Faelan used to wake up to one every few months, and then it was every few weeks, and now he was lucky to get a full nights sleep without being taken over by them. His liver was certainly suffering if the amount of vodka he’d gone through amounted to anything. If his body did decide to shut then right then and there he wasn’t sure he’d have any problem with it. Maybe then he could get some desperately needed sleep.

Staring at himself it the mirror it was clear just how much the dreams were affecting Faelan. His dark skin took on an ashy tint, losing the warmth in the tawny color and leaving it sickly. Dark bags pooled underneath bloodshot, light blue eyes. Long, black matted hair was evidence of the restless night he had. He was looking crazed. Maybe he was. Delirious even.

It made more sense then the other conclusion Faelan had drawn up.

It took quite a while to manage to get into the shower, and even longer to get out. Faelan’s body felt heavy and weak from so many sleepless nights and it was starting to take its toll. Wynne being gone didn’t help him much either, though that was no fault of her own. He wished Solas would hire someone else to help pick up the slack around the library. He stared at his half empty bottle of vodka as he got dressed for work and mourned over his sobriety. 

He’d smoke a little weed when he got home, he decided. Maybe that would help him sleep peacefully that night. 

Dorian was already off at work, and Faelan worried about him. He’d been waking up early and getting home late and sooner or later it was going to leave him wrecked if he didn’t have a break. He was supposed to be off the last weekend. Alexius had called to see if he minded working then as well. Faelan wanted to drag Dorian’s boss into the streets and light a flame up his arse. Dorian had done his work for the week, he’d put in his time, and Faelan was losing what was left of it that was supposed to be for  _ them.  _

Or maybe Dorian was fine with it. Maybe he wanted to get away.  Faelan really didn’t want to dwell on that thought. It brought up too many insecurities that he had worked hard to overcome over the years and it was uncomfortable to think that a bad week could bring them all back just like that. The dreams were hard, but not having Dorian around was the hardest. It made him wonder just how much he really relied on him.

Dorian had protected him, housed and fed him. He let him in his bed with a warm smile and a cocky grin and Faelan thought maybe his heart too. That itself seemed up for debate. Faelan was his, but was he Dorian’s? Could Faelan really make it if Dorian decided to throw the towel in?

Faelan shook his head. Insecurities. Ugly little thoughts that liked to dig their filthy fingers into the farthest recesses of his mind. He was supposed to be  _ over  _ them.

He was closing up the library, Solas having already gone home for the day, when he got a text from Dorian.

_From Belts and Buckles:_ _“I’m going to be late again tonight. Don’t wait up on me,_ amatus, _just try to get some sleep.”_

He was definitely not over them.

Faelan didn’t bother answering, just put his phone down with an angry huff and continued shutting down the computers. He just wanted Dorian  _ home.  _ He wanted to eat dinner with him, go to bed with him, wake up next to him, and he had been denied that for weeks now. He wouldn’t call them boyfriends. Lovers maybe. But they made a family and a life together, the two of them, and Faelan felt like sometimes he’d rather not  _ breathe  _ then to be apart for too long. 

He didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment. Not again. It fucking sucked.

He picked up his phone again to shoot Sera a text. 

_ To Twin Bitch: “Dorian’s boss has his claws in him tonight. Want to come over?” _

_ From Twin Bitch: “Hell fucking ya! Tell Bela to come too she brings the good shite.” _

Faelan rolled his eyes, but did as she asked. Isabella wanted to bring over some friends she had staying with her, Fae made her promise they wouldn’t ransack his apartment. He was halfway home when he got another text from Dorian.

_ From Belts and Buckles: “I’m going to try and get a day off. I miss you, darling.” _

Faelan just sent a thumbs up and a heart when he hit a red light. He wasn’t sure he could formulate a decent response that didn’t sound pissed if he tried. 

He pulled up to his apartment the same time Sera started up the stairs. When she saw him she waved around excitedly. Faelan himself had a huge grin on his face. It had been a while since they could get together, adult life getting in the way of having friends. When he caught up to her on the stairs she threw her arms around him and he hugged her back just as tightly.

“You look like shite,” she told him when she pulled away.

He smiled grimly. “Nightmares, don’t worry about it.”

She frowned anyways. “Is it about Dorian’s mustache? It’s about his mustache isn’t it.”

Faelan barked out a laugh. Trust Sera to avoid serious conversations, but at that moment he couldn’t be more grateful. He didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted to hang out with his friends and get high and maybe get a whole lot drunk. They were on beer number two, Sera tugging on his pointed ear with a grin on her face as she talked about sticking worms in Dorian’s pillow case, when there was a knock on the door.

“Let me in, it’s raining out here!” Isabella shouted from outside.

With a cackling laugh Sera hopped up from the couch and ran to the door, planting a kiss on Isabella’s cheek as she let her in.

Isabella grinned over at Faelan. “Hey sweet pea! Still not sleeping?”

Faelan waved a hand at that, “Who needs sleep anyways?”

A voice came from behind Isabella, and Faelan finally took a moment to look at the three other people behind her. “That’s the kind of thing someone who needs sleep says.”

Isabella stepped to the side. “Fae, these are a few friends who are visiting for a while. This is Krem, Dalish, and Skinner.”

Faelan looked them over. Human, elf, and elf respectively. All of whom immediately made themselves at home in his apartment, which might of pissed Faelan off any other day but right then he was grateful to not have to put in the effort to make them feel welcome. The human, Krem, took a seat next to Dalish and threw an arm over the back of the couch. Skinner must have decided Dalish was a better seat and draped herself on top of her. Faelan couldn’t fault her for that. His couch looked disgusting even in low lighting. Sera sat next to Faelan with a grin on her face and pinched his cheek lightly.

“Now where did I put it,” Isabella mumbled, digging through her purse as she sat down on the loveseat. She pulled out a pipe with a small “Aha!” and a small baggy next.

Faelan’s apartment was going to smell when Dorian got home, but when Sera handed him another beer he decided that was okay. 

“Where’s the big one?” Sera asked, aiming the question at Krem.

The human grimaced. “There was a Ben Hassrath sighting yesterday, so the Chief is laying low today. Rocky and Stitches are keeping him company and Grim is patrolling the city to see if they’ve left yet.”

Faelan sat up a little straighter at that, a little alarmed. He didn’t know much about the gang, only that Dorian’s estranged family had been on the receiving end of some of their violence, and was more than a little worried about Dorian coming home so late if they had been sighted in their city. 

But also,  _ why  _ their city?

“Ben Hassrath? Here?”

“Naw,” Isabella stood up and handed Faelan the pipe and a lighter. “None of that talk now. I’ll fill you in later. Right now we are getting high and pretending you don’t look like shit.”

Faelan took a drag at her insistence, letting the subject drop for now. Sera took one after him and then got up to grab more beer. She came back with his bottle of vodka and handed it over to him. He gave her a grateful swat on the ass and she stuck a foot in his face in retaliation, both of them giggling.

“Hoarding the good stuff for yourself?” Krem asked with a grin.

Faelan smiled back at him, taking a large swig before handing it over. “Just don’t go crazy with it. Dorian will get pissed if I run out tonight.”

“Dorian?” Dalish asked with a raised eyebrow.

“His boyfriend,” Isabella interjected.

“Not my boyfriend,” Fae argued.

“Listen, babe, you can avoid labels for your relationship all you want but you’ve been living together for nearly seven years and been sleeping with each other for at least five. You’re so domestic is nauseating.” 

Faelan shook his head. “Dorian takes issue with calling it anything, so don’t bring it up with him.”

“Maybe he’s not the right guy for you then,” Skinner mumbled.

Faelan tried really hard not to take offense. He knew how it looked. “That’s not it. His dad had him all sorts of fucked up. If he’s not ready then he’s not ready.”

The pipe was passed back to him. He ignored the lighter this time, letting a flame gather on his finger and using that instead. Lots of vodka and a pizza delivery later Faelan found himself slumping against Sera and holding her hand. A quick look at his phone told him it was nearing ten. If Dorian was allowed the schedule he was promised he’d have been home hours ago.

Faelan missed him. 

Isabella noticed his mood souring and handed the pipe to him. “None of that now.”

Faelan took a larger drag that time, letting the fog in his head grow heavier. Trying to push out his neediness and forget that Dorian should be here to have fun with them. Da’len came padding out then, having decided that the strangers in her home weren’t a threat. She hopped up on Faelan’s lap and dug her claws into his thigh. He hardly reacted to the sharp pains, scratching lightly behind her ear instead to encourage her to retract her claws. She did. Only to nip at his fingers sharply. 

“Hello Fatsom,” Sera cooed at the cat. “How’s my pretty lady today?”

A small growl curled up from the cat’s throat and Sera grinned.

“That’s my girl.” Faelan murmured.

Isabella eyed the cat warily. “How you earned that demon’s affection is still a mystery.”

“She’s old,” Faelan argued. “She’s allowed to be cranky.”

The door opened then, and Faelan immediately perked up. “You’re home! Early!”

Da’len hopped off with an angry hiss at the outburst and padded away. Faelan didn’t have it in him to be sad about that. Dorian stepped through the threshold, shaking off the rain from his umbrella. He paused to smile softly at him and nod at everyone else. “And you have company over.”

Introductions were made, and Sera moved to sit on the armrest of the sofa so that Dorian could sit beside Faelan. Warm hands dragged the small elf into his lap and Faelan couldn’t help the small purr that filled his chest. He hadn’t expected him home until well into the night and couldn’t help the excitement that pooled in his stomach.

“You should go to bed,” Faelan told him softly, not really wanting him to leave. “You have work in the morning.”

“Not anymore. Alexius gave me the next few days off.”

Faelan tried to ignore the pang of jealousy that Professor Alexius was now just Alexius. When had that happened?

“That was nice of  _ Professor  _ Alexius.”

If Dorian noticed the venom in Faelan’s voice, he didn’t show it. Soft lips kissed at the back of his neck and Faelan found it hard to stay mad. 

“Someone hand me the pipe?” Dorian asked.

“Do they not drug test you?” Sera asked, handing the pipe over. 

“Only once when you first get the position,” Dorian responded. “Too many people smoke pot in this town that if they really cracked down on it they wouldn’t have any employees.”

Faelan held a helpful flame lit finger out and Dorian took a drag. He blew a small puff of smoke into the elf’s face.

“Ass,” Fae muttered lovingly.

“Domestic,” Isabella muttered.

Two hours later they were saying goodbye to their guests and Dorian was carrying a very drunk and high elf to bed. Faelan was still cradling his vodka to his chest, Dorian having to practically wrestle it from him to keep him from drinking more.

Once settled into bed, Faelan asked quietly. “Can you do the thing?”

Dorian bristled. “Fae-.”

“I don’t work tomorrow,” Faelan interrupted. “You can keep me asleep for however long you want. I just don’t want to dream tonight.”

“You know I hate this.”

“Please. I need to sleep.”

Dorian bit his cheek as he relented. He pulled the covers up over Fae and watched him close his eyes in acceptance, giving himself completely away to Dorian. It hurt, having this kind of control and knowing Faelan trusted him enough to have it when Dorian couldn’t even tell him he loved him.

Magic pooled at the tip of Dorian’s fingers, and he pressed two against Faelan’s forehead, and just like that the elf fell asleep. Limbs relaxed and for once in many months the crease between his eyebrows eased. He was completely comatose, looking so much like the bodies in his father's morgue that it made Dorian sick. Faelan wouldn’t wake up until Dorian let him. He had so much trust and faith.

Dorian didn’t think he would ever be able to have that in anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time I smoked weed I spent the entire time petting my cousins cat. They took good care of me, I had a bottle of water and he gave me eye drops in case I got paranoid about my eyes being red. Smoke responsibly friends, and make sure the people you smoke with have the maturity to do so too especially if its your first time.
> 
> oops psa over hope ya'll liked the chapter


	6. Hissrad

_ “You are one of us, Hissrad. You are family. Ebasaam.” _

The Iron Bull squinted his remaining eye at himself in the mirror, carefully shaving at the scruff he’d accumulated in his travel to Nevarra. There hadn’t been time to stop, had hardly been time to sleep, taking shifts driving with his friends (family?) until they had reached their destination. It had been weeks in a cramped van and he had gladly taken advantage of a shower once the opportunity was given to him, scrubbing off grime and sweat and something sticky that had matted itself to his right leg. 

They were finally where they needed to be, though if they were finally safe was still up in the air. Hunter Fell. Smaller and more derelect than it used to be, years of poverty stripping its citizens had left the infrastructure crumbling around them. It wasn’t as bad now, one might be able to make a living here, but it would be hard to blend in with the small population. If Isabella hadn’t been able to help they would have kept on running right through the sparsely inhabited city. That they had been able to find her was a miracle in itself. She didn’t stay in one place for too long. She couldn’t, not with the  _ Ben Hassrath _ still looking for her.

_ “Imekari, you would lose yourself without us. Itwa-ost.” _

He was  _ tal-vashoth  _ he realized as he wiped excess shaving cream from his face. He abandoned his family for a new one. Maybe he  _ would  _ lose himself. Maybe he would go mad. It was an old term, one that was hardly used anymore in qunari society, but the  _ Ben Hassrath _ took it personal when someone left for good. Personal enough that Bull didn’t dare think of leaving his former gang for years.

Personal enough that they were all still in grave danger.

There was a knock at the door, and Isabella spoke through it loudly. “Bull, I have one bathroom and we have a line. Please hurry.”

“I will piss on your pillow, Chief,” Krem called out.

The corner of Bull’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Let a man freshen up in the morning. I haven’t showered in days.”

“ _ We know! _ ” They all shouted in unison, Grim grunting in affirmation. Bull began wiping the rest of the shaving cream off of his face.

“It was like traveling with a goat,” Skinner muttered.

“I heard that.” Bull opened the door and raised an eyebrow at them. His own little band of miscreants just stared right back.

“You were supposed to,” Skinner told him.

Isabella was first into the bathroom, unbuttoning her pants as she did and shutting the door loudly behind her in her hurry. Bull did feel a little bad about it. This was her apartment after all.

“As soon as the coast is clear we need to find some other place to stay,” Rocky grumbled. “One with more bathrooms.”

“You are all free to leave when you wish,” The Iron Bull told them. He was met with a myriad of unimpressed stares. “What?”

“If we left you on your own we’d find you in a gutter,” Dalish told him. 

“You all underestimate me.”

“No, we know what you’re capable of,” Stitches told him. “We also know you’d rather eat the poultices I make them put them over your wounds like you’re  _ supposed  _ to. Forgive us if we don’t trust you to manage in decent society.”

Bull rubbed at his eye, choosing not to reply to that and making his way into the kitchen to poor himself some coffee. They might complain but they knew they were incredibly lucky to get the help they could. They knew Isabella was putting herself in more trouble with the  _ Ben Hassrath  _ for associating with them. If they found him she was going down with them all. So he was confined to the house, sipping his coffee and playing on his tablet, while he waited for the false trails he set to put his former gang off his current whereabouts. He wasn’t stupid. He knew they’ve been tailing them. Desertion was met with death.

So Bull hummed underneath his breath and crossed his fingers that he wasn’t dragging innocent people down with him. Isabella was his only hope. Trusting someone else with his life wasn’t easy when he had hardly been able to trust anyone with anything in the first place. Meeting her at her work had been a gamble and he only hoped that it would pay off. 

It took two weeks for the  _ Ben Hassrath  _ to slip up and let themselves be known. Skinner was out getting groceries with Krem when they realized a car was following them. It took over an hour to lose them, ducking through allies and cutting through back yards, and it put them all on edge. The hope was if they didn’t leave the house maybe the  _ Ben Hassrath  _ would think they’d packed up and ran. They also stood the risk that Krem and Skinner didn’t really lose them. That they now knew where Bull was and they were waiting to make their move. So they waited with baited breath and guns at their hips for the front door to blow in for three days before Grim grew tired and went out to patrol. Against Bull’s wishes.

Grim didn’t find anything. The coast seemed clear. Bull refused to believe it was safe quite yet though.

So when Krem, Skinner, Dalish, and Isabella left to meet up with a friend of hers they had strict orders from Bull to text them every hour. He still wasn’t able to relax until they came back late into the night.

“You would have liked them,” Krem told Bull at the kitchen counter. “Specially the elf. Small and sassy like you like ‘em. Shame he’s got a boyfriend.”

Bull only shook his head. “That’s the very last thing on my mind right now, Krem.”

“I know, chief,” Krem scratched at the back of his head. “Next time, though, you should come.”

“Not yet.”

“No, not yet.”

They left it at that. Krem curled up on the floor of the living room, Rocky and Grim having taken up both ends of the couches. Stitches was curled up in a bean bag and Dalish and Skinner took the spare guest room leaving only one other place to sleep. Bull took the old, beaten recliner knowing it was absolutely going to kill his body and placed his gun on the stand next to it.

  
  
  


_ He was warm on his chest, small and so fragile under all the weight he held. Bull could only watch him and admire the way the morning rays of sunshine made his dark skin glow. It was rare they got a peaceful night of rest. The small elf on his chest especially. He was often up late in the night working on reports, studying material, or preparing for an upcoming expedition. The rare moments like these were becoming more and more hard to come by. _

_ “He’s beautiful like this,” A voice next to him said, and a warm hand pressed against his bare shoulder. _

_ The elf’s eyes cracked open, bright icy blue and beautiful. _

  
  
  


It was those eyes Bull remembered most vividly when he woke up the next morning


	7. Losing

_ “Dorian!”  _

_ The name tore from his lips feeling like acid on his tongue, burning up his throat and his lungs and leaving him raw. His heartbeat roared in his ears drowning out the clashing and clanging and screaming of the battle around him. He could feel his heart drop to his feet as he took a staggering step towards Dorian, crumbled on the ground unmoving. Blood soaked into the dirt and wet the grass around him pouring from his chest. _

_ An enemy took advantage of Faelan’s distraction, and a sharp pain tore through his abdomen. It took a moment to realize what had happened, that it hurt. Faelan fell to his knees when his legs gave out on him, grasping at the blade that sliced through from his back. Sharp edges cut into his fingers.  _

_ A roar from behind, and the weight at his back fell away. Large hands picked him up, careful not to jostle the sword still inside of him, and he struggled weakly. _

_ “Dorian,” Faelan managed to choke out. _

_ “I know,” Bull sounded just as wrecked as him. _

_ “Send word for a healer,” someone shouted. _

_ Another, “I think he’s still breathing.” _

_ “The inquisitor is priority!” _

_ “Dorian,” Faelan whimpered, and the world melted away. _

  
  
  


Faelan sat up with a gasp, already stumbling out of bed and reaching for the vodka at his nightstand and swallowing large mouthfuls before he had truly woken up. He looked over beside him, watched Dorian sleep and tried to convince himself that he was okay. His own hand pressed against his stomach still feeling the blade inside it. 

He was crying, he realized when wetness dripped off his chin. When was the last time he actually cried? He downed more vodka and stumbled out of bed and to the balcony, grabbing the cigarettes from the dresser on the way out.

Was that how Dorian died? Was that how he himself went? It seemed wrong, if they truly died that way. He’d imagined that he, Dorian, and Bull had grown old together, but with the life they had seemed to live maybe that wasn’t the case. Rubbing at his stomach as he smoked his third cigarette he had to convince himself that there was no way. They had to have survived that. 

Dorian stumbled sleepily onto the balcony, pulling up a seat next to Faelan and patting at his lap. Fae was quick to put out his cigarette clamber onto him, trying to keep drunk and heavy limbs from digging into Dorian. Once situated Dorian wrapped his arms around him tightly.

They didn’t talk. They didn’t want to. They just sat there in silence until the sun started to rise.

  
  
  


Dorian was going to lose Faelan to this. It was a realization he had one night when he found the small elf shuddering with sobs in the bathroom. These dreams were going to take the one person Dorian had ever loved away from him and he didn’t know how to stop it. He’d tried suggesting a therapist and got a small ball of flame thrown at his head for his efforts. Faelan was adamant that he was fine.

There was something more to it though then Faelan just believing they had lived before, more than the other man he swore was real, and Dorian didn’t know how to fix it.

“Let’s go out for dinner,” Dorian told him over coffee in the morning. “I’ll make sure to get off on time tonight.”

Faelan didn’t respond right away, staring blankly at his coffee and petting Da’len as she sat in his lap. When he did it was a small, “Okay.”

Dorian had to fight to keep his face neutral. “The bar downtown? We can eat, have fun, relax a little.”

Faelan looked up, a small smile on his weary face. “Alright,  _ vhenan. _ ”

A small, relieved sigh at the term left Dorian’s lips. It felt like forever since he’d heard it. Just that one word made it feel like they could get through this. 

True to his word he did get home on time. It was easier than he had thought. Alexius did try to keep him later but all it took was for Dorian to tell him he had a date for the man to let him go. He had tapped his fingers nervously against the steering wheel on the drive home hoping that the night would go well. It had been months since they had a date, just the two of them, and Dorian knew it was mostly his fault with his hectic scheduling. To say he felt awful about it was the understatement of the year.

He felt fucking horrible.

Faelan had dressed up for the night, meeting him at the door and kissing him hard on the mouth. Dorian couldn’t help a little grunt of surprise. He hadn’t seen this kind of energy in Faelan for a while. When he pulled away he couldn’t help the grin on his face. Faelan was wearing a tight pair of dark jeans, the ones Dorian could hardly pull off his legs, and the leather jacket he had gotten for the elf years ago. It was a nice change from man who hardly had the will to put on pants to go to work lately. Dorian slipped his hand into Faelan’s back pocket to grab at his ass and kissed him hard wanting to absolutely sink into that energy.

Herald’s Rest was just down the street so they didn’t bother driving. Dorian had left his suit jacket at home, rolling up the sleeves to his dress shirt and popping the first few buttons to try and look a little more casual. Faelan clung tight to his hand, fingers intertwined and warm and perfect. Dorian opened the door to the bar, the smell of stale beer and loud music hitting them in the face as they walked in. Faelan’s shoulders were finally relaxed, tired eyes soft, and Dorian couldn’t have helped the smile on his own face if he tried.

“Wynne is back to work now,” Faelan told Dorian over dinner. “She can’t do as much as she used to, but it’s nice.”

They were sharing a plate of nachos and some wings. The food wasn’t great and the ale was questionable but it was the first place Dorian had taken the elf when he moved in with them. It was special. The workers knew them by name and Cabot gave them discounts on the cheaper beer and the place felt like a second home most days. 

Dorian himself had a pleasant buzz, and he downed the rest of his wine as the waiter came by to hand him and Faelan a pint of ale each. Dorian sniffed it questionably before taking a swig. Disgusting. 

It was fantastic.

“That’s good to hear,” Dorian said truthfully. Wynne always seemed to put Faelan in a better mood, and she was a better teacher of magic then he could ever dream to be. He owed her a lot just for being there for Fae. 

“Solas is interviewing another person to help out,” Faelan continued. “One of Isabella’s friends. Stitches I think? Solas owes her a favour for some of the books she managed to get him. He’s not too happy about it.”

“He’s never happy about anything.”

Faelan laughed, light and beautiful, and it momentarily took Dorian’s breath away. “You’re not wrong. How’s work?”

Dorian shrugged. “Everytime we seem to get close to cracking this spell it dances right out of our reach again. Alexius is getting frustrated and I can’t blame him, I am too. I’ve been trying to get a hold of some ancient tevinter scripts on time magic but it’s near impossible.”

Talk about work quickly petered off into talk about Isabella and her friends, and then to the possibility of the Ben Hassrath being in town. Faelan was obviously worried but Dorian wasn’t bothered. If they were here then they would move on quickly. Their town was small, quiet, there was no reason to stay.

“Maybe it’s best Isabella’s friends keep moving as well,” Dorian said truthfully. If they were going to bring trouble wherever they went then they could bring it as far away from Faelan as possible.

“I like Krem,” Faelan shrugged. “He’s like me. He gets it. Not quite sure I want him to leave quite yet.”

Dorian didn’t have an argument for that. He just reached across the table and took Faelan’s hand.

When they went to bed that night, everything finally seemed okay. Faelan seemed normal. 

It was Dorian who woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath.

  
  
  


_ “He sees the world in you, the future and more.” _

_ “So you’re saying?” _

_ “I’m saying he loves you, and I love you, and we can make this work” _

_ Dorian sighed, hard through his nose. “Bull, you know I love you both dearly.” _

_ “So stop running from us. Stay. Let us make this work.” _

_ Dorian looked up at the large qunari in front of him. “People like us don’t get happy endings. You know that. Faelan knows that.” _

_ “We aren’t asking for a happy ending. We are asking for you.” _


	8. Inquisitor, Do You Have A Moment?

Dorian didn’t bring up his dream the next morning. As real as it felt he was positive it was just a dream and nothing more. A weird and seemingly familiar dream, but a conjuring of his unconscious mind nonetheless. To give it more thought would be to make it more real and Dorian absolutely did not want to do that. Refused to. 

Faelan on the other hand slept through the night, a rare occurrence but more than welcome. Dorian rose before them both and started the coffee machine. Da’len wove between his legs and howled for food and he poured her a heaping cup to keep her quiet. What Faelan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and Da’len wasn’t about to try and rat him out. He gave her a small scratch on the head before starting on breakfast. Anything to keep his mind off of his dream.

Faelan rose from the dead after a few pancakes were finished and sitting in the microwave to keep them warm. He wrapped his arms around Dorian from behind and kissed between his shoulder blades.

“Rare to see you make breakfast,” he muttered sleepily. It wasn’t often that either of them had the time nor energy to put into something that wasn’t a yogurt cup or a bowl of cereal in the morning. Especially not before work.

“I had a craving,” Dorian lied.  _ It was just a dream.  _

Dorian had to eat quickly lest he be late for work, and he was out of the door with a kiss to Faelan’s cheek and a promise to be home on time. Faelan watched him go with a mouth full of pancake and tried to believe him.

When Dorian didn’t get home until late that night Faelan knew he was right not to get his hopes up. He pretended to be asleep when Dorian crawled into their bed. He let himself be pulled back against a solid chest. A quick apology was whispered in his ear and it took everything he had not to start shouting. 

Dorian was none the wiser, and was snoring in his ear seconds later.

  
  
  


Wynne being back at work changed the entire atmosphere in the best of ways. She always knew the right thing to say to Faelan when things weren’t going right as he had desperately missed her kind words. When she came in to give him a break he couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“It’s nice to see you so chipper,” she said warmly.

“It’s nice to have you back,” he countered.

Wynne smiled at him and shooed him towards the break room so he could eat and rest before heading back out to stack books. The library had been empty all morning but that was becoming normal. Not many people went out of their way to rent a book they could read online anymore. They got the occasional scholar and a handful of students throughout the week for material that just didn’t come cheap online. It wasn’t enough to keep them busy and Faelan wasn’t sure how it kept them afloat. Solas had to be doing some serious work in the background to make sure they didn’t run the library into the ground. Repairing old tomes and dusty cracked books must pay well.

Faelan tried not to think too hard on it. He didn’t want to think of the possibility of needing to find a new job if he lost this one. 

“You are still having your dreams,” Wynne says when he comes back. “You look like you haven’t slept a wink.”

Faelan grimaces. “They’re getting worse.”

A warm hand presses against his cheek, and it looks like Wynne is mulling something over before she speaks. “The veil between you and the fade is weak. It’s like you’ve crossed over so many times the door is left ajar. It’s dangerous.”

“I haven’t met a demon yet,” Faelan says weakly.

“Yet,” Wynne echoes. “The dreams, they are getting more frequent?”

“I have one at least every other night.”

“Dorian?”

“Not yet. I don’t think he would tell me even if he did.”

Wynne sighs hard. “He is stubborn, that one. Wouldn’t see the truth of it if it smacked him in the face.”

“I think he thinks I’m going crazy,” Faelan smiles grimly. “I kind of wonder if maybe I am.”

“Magic and the fade interact differently with you,” Wynne tells him with a shake of her head. “That does not make you crazy. It makes you unique. Your magic is trying to tell you something.”

“I wish it would give me a break.”

Wynne smiles at him, warm and comforting. “I think all mages feel that way at some point.”

She digs in her bag then, looking around the library quickly before pulling out a vial and pressing it into Faelan’s hand. He looks at the tiny bottle curiously. Bright blue liquid shines at him, swirling almost hypnotically behind the glass. It looks like its reaching towards him, and his magic in turn tries to reach toward it. The strange push and pull sensation left him dizzy.

“What is this?” He asks warily. He knows Wynne would never hurt him, wouldn’t even dream of it, but the vial is strange and the matter inside stranger still. 

“Lyrium.”

Faelan almost drops the bottle in shock.

“H-how?”

“I may be old but I know a few things and quite a few people,” Wynne tells him.

“This is illegal,” Faelan counters. He tries to hand the vial back to her but she shakes her head sharply.

“This should be enough to give you some clarity,” Wynne explains. “Take it before you go to sleep. It should strengthen your magic enough for your dreams to make more sense. The fade is trying to tell you something and it is about time you have the strength to listen.”

“What if I don’t like what it has to tell me?” Faelan quietly asks.

“Is it better to go on not knowing?”

Faelan stares at the bottle in his hands for a moment before placing it in his own bag. 

“Good,” Wynne tells him. “Give me a call if you need to.”

Faelan takes the vial of lyrium that night, after Dorian has long since fallen asleep and he’s taken a few shots of vodka to steel his nerves. He watches Dorian sleep for a moment after. Reaches over to run his fingers through the man’s hair to try and ground himself to reality once more. 

He dreams as soon as his head hits the pillow.

It hits him like a train, fragments swelling and bursting and coming back together to weave memories he didn’t know he had. It hurts remembering so much all at once. A dragon, a monster, a battle that they just barely managed to win. Falling into bed with Dorian and Bull with laugher on his face and so much warmth in his chest it was almost suffocating.

_ Inquisitor, do you have a moment? _

Dorian left for tevinter, for business, and their bed felt so much colder without him in it. He was missing an arm and a third of his heart. He fell in battle, not the one where he saw Dorian bleeding out, but one much later. Bull held him the entire time. 

When he woke up it was with gasping breaths and a grin on his face.


	9. And Who Are We

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to be coming by slower now. Thanks for reading!

The happiness was short lived, and then the weight of it all came crashing down like a tidal wave. Faelan found himself drinking as soon as Dorian left for work. He chugged the vodka like a man dying of thirst and curled up on the couch with Da’len and a large blanket.

Faelan wasn’t sure what was worse. Vividly remembering how he died or remembering how Dorian did. He had wanted to hope that they all grew old together but maybe that was too much to ask for. Maybe it was enough they were together as long as they were. He was still trying to put together when, where, and how everything happened. It wasn’t like a story played out last night. It was all so jumbled and mixed together.

It hurt to think about, honestly. Faelan’s head pounded and his chest ached and nausea swirled in his stomach violently. The more he tried to piece things together, the more  complicated it seemed to get. There was so much to sift through. So much to really take in and relive. Faelan remembered, though, and he tried to convince himself that it had to be enough. 

More than that though, Faelan remembered Bull with such brute force and clarity it brought tears to his eyes. The ache that had made a home in his chest had grown tenfold and he didn’t think it would let up until the qunari was  _ here.  _

Da’len chirped at him, and he hiccuped a sob into her soft stomach.

When Dorian found him that night, he was in the bathroom puking his guts out. Too much vodka, Faelan had figured. Maybe the come down from the lyrium. The last him used to spend days in bed after a hard fight, lyrium the only thing keeping him alive and alert while he took on men in armor twice the size of him. It was awful, though, what one vial of lyrium did to him. 

Dorian was there immediately. He swiped a hair band from the counter and was quick to tie Faelan’s hair back away from his face. A wet washcloth pressed to the back of his sweaty neck and a warm hand rubbed at tense shoulders.

“Faelan?” Dorian asked wearily.

Faelan didn’t respond, heaving into the toilet bowl a few more times before he leaned back against Dorian and moaned low in his throat.

“I’m not who I thought I was,” Faelan muttered, slurring his words.

“Care to explain, darling?” The worry was clear in Dorian’s voice. Faelan didn’t pick up on it, couldn’t through the roaring in his ears.

“I didn’t think reincarnation could be so violent,” the elf explained. It was past time for pretending he didn’t know what he knew. He needed Dorian right beside him on this, needed to get him to remember too so they could find their missing peace. “I didn’t think I would miss the people we used to know or… Bull’s gone. I don’t know where to find him.”

Dorian jerked violently at the name, nearly causing the two of them to topple over. Faelan felt his stomach grow cold. He turned teary, shocked, eyes at Dorian.

“You knew,” He whispered, and saying it out loud hurt so much more than just thinking it.

“Faelan-.”

Faelan pushed away from him with more strength than he thought he had. Dorian tumbled away and watched as the elf struggled to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You knew!” Faelan screamed. Anger. Betrayal. Faelan didn’t think that could hurt  _ so much.  _ He could see the guilty look in Dorian’s eyes and it made the agony in his chest that much worse. “You knew and you didn’t tell me!”

“Faelan, you’re drunk-.”

“Of course I’m fucking drunk. We died and I remember it all and Bull isn’t  _ fucking here! _ ”

“Bull isn’t real.”

The words cut like glass, and Faelan could feel the last pieces of his heart shattering with them. “Fuck you.  _ Fuck you.  _ You know that name like I know that name. You know who he was to us.”

Faelan stumbled through the doorway, a hand on the wall keeping him steady and upright. Dorian was quick to follow him out. He reached out, tried to grab his hand, and the way Fae recoiled from his touch with so much disgust on his face hit him like the elf had punched him instead.

“ _ Amatus,  _ please.” Dorian pleaded, but Faelan couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

“Don’t fucking ‘ _ Amatus’  _ me, Dorian.” The pet name pissed him off, possibly more. It left a disgusting taste in his mouth just saying it, and his stomach recoiled at even hearing it. “I’m leaving.”

“And where are you supposed to go this late at night?” Dorian asked. “You can’t drive like this.”

“Sera can pick me up.”

“Come to bed and we can talk about it in the morning.”

Faelan turned at him sharply, jabbing a finger into his chest and seething. “I don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you, let alone in the same house. I can’t believe you knew and you kept that from me.”

Sera picked him up that night, and as soon as he was in the car she turned to Dorian and slammed a fist into his abdomen. Dorian crumbled to the ground coughing and gasping for breath. By the time he got up Faelan was gone with their cat, and their home had never felt so empty.

  
  
  


Faelan couldn’t find it in himself to even talk for three days. Dorian called twelve times the first day before he shut off his phone. He could hear him talking to Sera at the front door the second, but she was quick to slam it in his face before he could even begin to try and explain.

“I made a  _ mistake, _ ” Heartbreak. Faelan could hear it in his voice from his spot on the couch and it made him angry all over again. Who was he to be heartbroken? 

Dorian didn’t know he was there listening. He made himself as small and quiet as he possibly could with Da’len bundled up in his arms. She seemed to understand how much he needed her right now. She didn’t even struggle. Dorian continued, begging, “You have to let me talk to him.”

_ Slam.  _

The fourth day Isabella came over and held his face against her and cooed at him.

“Everyone has fights,” she told him. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t think we can,” Faelan told her, voice croaky and weak. “But I don’t think I have a choice.”

“Love does that to you.”

Sera sat down with him that night with a cup of tea and Faelan told her everything about his dreams. He had to. She was his best friend in his last life and he was  _ so so  _ lucky she was even here for him again in this one. He told her about Bull, praying to every god he knew that she might recognize the name, but she didn’t and he felt awful all over again. 

Cassandra wasn’t here. Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, Cole, so many weren’t here as well. Maybe Bull wasn’t either. Faelan wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go through the rest of his life knowing he was out there but not within his reach. 

Sera believed every word.

“You know,” she started. Delicate. She was never delicate. “I’ve had some dreams. I just never thought that maybe…”

He told her about Dorian then, and he could see in the way she clenched her jaw that she was holding herself back when she said. “He’s always been an absolute piss head. This life and the last.”

“He knew,” Faelan cried. “He knew and he didn’t tell me.”

“Maybe he didn’t believe it was real.”

Faelan had a hard time trying to figure out why she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Even if he didn’t know it was real it still hurt. It hurt because Faelan knew how much those dreams took out of you and he knew about the ache and the heartbreak of waking up missing a body in their bed. A year ago Dorian would have told him. 

“He used to tell me everything.” Faelan sounded pitiful, even to his own ears, and he cringed at how wrecked his voice sounded. “Now he hardly talks about work, and when he does it’s about Alexius. He talks about him like he doesn’t  _ see  _ me anymore. He comes home with gifts from him all the time. Little things.”

“He wouldn’t cheat on you.” 

Fae shook his head. “Wouldn’t he? We’re not together. He’s never told me he loves me. I’ve been an absolute mess for so long and Alexius is so put together. There are no strings between us and he’s made sure to keep it that way.”

“So this isn’t just about the dreams.”

Faelan looked down into his mug. “I think that was just a last straw. Maybe we weren’t supposed to be together in this life.”

Sera hummed. “Isabella has dreams too. She found someone through them, though they only keep in touch through letters because they’re off at the war in Ferelden. She might could find Bull too.”

“And if he doesn’t remember?”

“Then we make him.”

Faelan drained his mug and laid back on the couch. “One thing at a time, maybe. Let me work through this first.”

“Yeah, sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated and I like to respond to everyone. My twitter is Neadevar if you want to follow :)


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